


I'm your captain

by Builder



Series: Whoa Bessie [25]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Sickfic, Trans Steve Rogers, Vomiting, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: “Buck…” Steve hovers his hand over James’s shoulder again, feeling the damp heat coming off him, but still restraining his touch. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” Because it hast to be more than just the fact that he’s being violently ill. They’ve dealt with puke before. But they haven’t dealt with this.James shakes his head again. Then he spits and mutters, “It’s…” He sighs and breathes through a heave. “Almost like being back…”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Whoa Bessie [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/892050
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	I'm your captain

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @builder051

_I’m your captain_

_I’m your captain_

_But I’m feeling_

_Mighty sick_

————————

Steve sits on the closed toilet while James curls around the trash can on the bathroom floor. He’s offered to get up a few times, to get James up on his knees and in the position to empty his gut properly, but to no avail.

“I’m ok,” James pants, looking up at him, a long string of spit dangling from his lip to the depths of the bin. “I just… maybe… one more…”. He breaks into a pained heave, his shoulders jutting forward and his hair sweeping into curtains around his face.

“Ok, alright.” Steve leans down and steadies the bin in James’s grip. He wants to pat his arm, to hold back his hair, but James won’t let him touch him. He’s tried, only to have James go stiff under his touch. “You tell me.”

But James can’t. Either that or he won’t. He’s still hacking up nothing and trembling all over. Steve wants to be patient with him, but it’s almost more than he can take.

“You sure you don’t want to sit up? Try for up here?” He pats the toilet cover between his spread legs.

James shakes his head and moans, then swallows tightly as if he’s ashamed of himself.

“Buck…” Steve hovers his hand over James’s shoulder again, feeling the damp heat coming off him, but still restraining his touch. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” Because it hast to be more than just the fact that he’s being violently ill. They’ve dealt with puke before. But they haven’t dealt with this.

James shakes his head again. Then he spits and mutters, “It’s…” He sighs and breathes through a heave. “Almost like being back…”

James spits up a string of mucous so yellow it practically glows. It clings to his chin, and when he goes in to wipe it, he’s shaking so hard that he misses on the first try.

“Can I?” Steve tries again, taking a piece of toilet paper.

“N-no…”

“Alright,” Steve sighs. “Alright.”

“‘S just…” James shivers, and his voice nearly breaks. “Everybody was sick back there. Just, from the water, y’know…?”

“Mm.” Steve nods. He’s heard the stories of soldiers crapping themselves and doubling over on parade.

James hangs his head over the bin again and retches. He goes, if possible, even paler. “Then…then… when I was… was…”

When he was a prisoner of war, he means. Steve won’t make him say it. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I know you were real sick.”

James nods. He sniffs and holds the bin away from himself for a moment. “I just… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Buck.” Steve tries not to feel affronted. He knows James doesn’t mean it. He knows he doesn’t mean anything. It should be enough that he’s letting him be in the same room with him when he’s this deliriously sick. But there’s still something missing, the unconditional trust that’s come back in most every other aspect of their relationship. He can hold James when he’s post-seizure and throwing up on the floor, but not now. It makes Steve want to grit his teeth in frustration and wrap James in his arms anyway.

“It’s ok, you know?” he says instead, holding out his hands again. He hopes James will take one of them, maybe pull himself up into a sweaty, shaky hug. But he knows James will take the second meaning. That this, whatever this is, is fine. Which it is. It’s just not what Steve wants.

“I know.” James nods again. He spits again, too. “Thanks.”

Steve can’t help but give a half smile. “Sure, Buck.” He nods at the bin. “You done?”

James bites his lip and slowly shakes his head.

“Ok.” Steve has a feeling he is, but he just doesn’t want to move. Maybe he feels safer that way. Steve can’t exactly judge. “Ok. You tell me when.”

“Ok,” James says softly. “I will.”


End file.
